


Worth the Wait

by Kacka



Series: Kacka Does a Thing [22]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 02:47:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12003375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kacka/pseuds/Kacka
Summary: Bellamy hasn't beenpiningfor Clarke all these years. It's just that nobody else ever quite measured up.





	Worth the Wait

**Author's Note:**

> This is not exactly the prompt but I was feeling more fluff than angsty pining so this is what we ended up with. I hope the anon who prompted this likes it anyways!

 

Bellamy wouldn't have said he'd particularly missed anything about Arkadia, and for the first week that he's back, that holds true. It's a pain to park the moving truck he'd rented on the street in front of his apartment, a pain to get his furniture up four flights of stairs, a pain to assemble the dresser he'd ordered. Ark is louder than the small town where he'd been at school the past six years, and everything is about twice as expensive.

But then Friday rolls around and he wakes up for the first time without a to-do list, and he remembers there was one thing he liked about Arkadia: Eden Coffee.

The thought is enough to get him up and moving.

Most people probably don't feel as fond toward their first minimum-wage job as he does, but Bellamy has worked enough crappy shift jobs to know that he had a good thing going at Eden. The hours were flexible, he made a little extra in tips each shift, Octavia could hang out, and the owner, Marcus Kane, looked out for his employees really well. There's nothing in particular drawing Bellamy back beyond nostalgia and a need for caffeine, but he wouldn't mind catching up with Marcus if he's there.

Besides, it will probably be nice to return to familiar surroundings.

At first glance, it seems like a lot has changed. The place has gotten a facelift since the last time Bellamy was in (understandable, given how long it's been) and at least half of the menu is new. But their signature mini donuts are still prominently featured, the air is still filled with the sound of steady conversation, and he feels a little bit like he's been physically struck with the aroma of freshly-brewed coffee, so maybe not all that much has changed after all.

He's still evaluating, taking in all the new and recognizing all the familiar, when he gets to the front of the line. He's so distracted he doesn't notice for a moment.

"Can I help you?"

His eyes snap back down and he shoots the barista a sheepish grin. She looks to be in high school, wearing a politely forced customer service smile, and has a fox pin on her apron where he kept his name tag.

"Yeah, sorry. Can I get a large coffee and a half order of minis?"

"Room for cream?"

"No, thanks."

"Show off." This comes from another voice further down the counter and Bellamy is already grinning when he turns. Because of course it's Clarke Griffin standing by the pastry case, smirking at him like no time at all has passed.

Much like the coffee shop, she's both the same and different. Her blonde hair is shorter now, shot through with accents of red, and he can see in the way she carries herself that she's not a kid anymore. But the tilt of her lips, the beauty mark, the glint in her blue eyes is exactly the same.

(Okay, maybe there were two things he missed about Arkadia.)

"How am I showing off?" He demands. "She _asked_."

"You could have told her you wanted room."

"And get cheated out of that extra coffee? No thanks," he shoots back. Her smirk widens and she comes over to the cash register.

"You can clock out, Fox. I've got this one." To Bellamy, she adds, "What flavor of donuts?"

"Shit, there are flavors now?"

Clarke laughs. "We got fancy since you left, Blake. There's vanilla, mocha, birthday cake, cookies and cream--"

"Is regular a flavor? Just cinnamon sugar?"

"One half order of cinni-minis coming up," she says with a completely straight face. Bellamy can't stop himself from wrinkling his nose. She smiles. "The first thing I thought about when Marcus rebranded them was how much you'd hate having to call them that."

"Yeah, I'm glad I got out when I did." He pauses. "A little surprised you're still here, though."

"Not still. Here again. I went and got a business degree and now I'm back to shadow Marcus until we can get a second shop up and running. That'll be seven fifty three."

"Really?"

"I don't do the math, I just read it off the screen."

Bellamy snorts and hands her a ten, dumping the change in the tip jar.

"Not what I was getting at. I meant-- I guess business is kind of surprising. I always thought you'd go for art. Or medicine."

"I'll always love art, but I couldn't do it for a job. It would stress me out and I'd start to hate it too much." She grins, sharp. "Deciding against medicine was more spite than anything else. Didn't want to follow in Mom's footsteps."

Bellamy laughs because yeah, that sounds like the Clarke he knew. The one who was his favorite coworker for that exact reason (once he got past the imagined nepotism of her being the owner's stepdaughter). She smiles like she knows what he's thinking.

"So you decided to follow in Marcus's footsteps instead?"

"If I run my own business I don't have anyone telling me what to do," she points out. "Plus it still leaves my options pretty open for the future."

"And you're nothing if not pragmatic."

"Sarcastic, maybe," she says, thoughtful. "And I like to think I've gotten hotter since high school. But yeah, business was practical." She turns her smirk on him again. "You're not looking for a job, are you? Because our second location could be hiring soon. You'd have to work for me, but I figure we're both grown up enough we might not scare away all our customers with our bickering."

"Tempting," he laughs. "But I have a job. That's why I'm back, actually, I got a teaching position at Ark High."

"No way!" Her undisguised joy is unexpected but not unwelcome. "That's awesome. What subject?"

"Civics and World History."

"Sounds about right. You always were a history nerd. I never pictured you becoming a teacher, but now that I think about it, it's kind of perfect."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, you should be about the same maturity level as your students now," she teases. "It'll work just fine."

"Hey, you haven't seen me in years. I'm at least college level maturity these days."

"Sorry, my bad." She bites her lip. "Are you hanging around for a while? I've got to be on registers until Monroe gets here, but after that I'll be on drinks so--"

"I could sit at the counter."

"I mean, don't put yourself out or anything. If you've got work to do--"

"If I had work to do, I'd tell you I had work to do," he says, amused. "It's not a hardship, Clarke. It would be nice to catch up."

"I forgot you're not big on politeness." She rolls her eyes, shooing him away. "Go sit down, I'll be over in a few."

Bellamy pulls out his book of crossword puzzles as he waits, but finds his mind wandering as he stares down at the clues, pen tapping on the counter with restless anticipation.

It's kind of hard to believe he's back here, at Eden, about to hang out with Clarke Griffin. He had the hugest, most embarrassing crush on her when they were in high school, but of course it had manifested itself in relentless teasing, needless antagonism, and poor attempts at flirtation. Even though she antagonized him right back, she was his favorite person to work with. She cared about things with an unrivaled intensity, was always ready to fight anyone and everyone, and got under his skin so naturally it was a little spooky.

He never got up the courage to do anything about his infatuation, but he'd liked her so much, for so long, that it kind of stunted him romantically. It wasn't like he compared everyone he was interested in to Clarke. It's just that in the wake of thoat crush, he knew what it was like to be ridiculously into someone. It's a feeling he's never been able to really replicate.

He'd kept his hookups and dating life casual in undergrad, and though he'd eventually gotten a more serious girlfriend, there had never been that irresistible pull. He and Gina realized they were better off as friends, and he's really glad she's still in his life, but he always wondered if he was looking at the past through rose-tinted lenses. If he was keeping himself from being happy based on a fluke. An unrealized dream.

But he can't ignore now the way his skin is prickling, the current setting his nerves abuzz (though admittedly, that might be the _strong_ coffee he'd downed way too quick). It feels like a second chance.

He pulls out his phone and takes a picture of his coffee cup with the Eden logo facing the camera, sending it to Octavia with the caption _guess where i am_.

**O:** Starbucks?

**Me:** I raised an asshole.

**O:** This isnt news. Is it the same as u remember?

Bellamy looks up, catching Clarke's eye. He's powerless to not return the smile she gives him, and he ducks his head before he embarrasses himself. _Basically_ , he tells O, then pauses before adding, _Clarke Griffin is even here_ i.

**O:** So that's why u texted me   
Ur freaking out  
About a girl u liked six years ago  
Typical

**Me:** I am not freaking out. We had a very normal conversation. We're going to catch up more. I'm being very cool.

**O:** Sounds fake  
But congrats I guess  
High school u is v jealous rn

**Me:** I will pay you to text actual words

**O:** *middle finger emoji* *winking kiss emoji*

"Picking out the perfect filter?"

Bellamy's head snaps up to find Clarke leaning on the counter in front of him, smirking. It gives him an unfortunate view down her shirt and he clears his throat, trying not to let his eyes stray.

"What?"

"For instagram?" She tilts her head, still amused. "I saw you take a picture. Not to brag, but I've got so much instagram game. You should definitely let me help."

"That certainly sounded like bragging to me." He smirks. "But no, I'm not really on instagram. Just texting O."

"How's she doing? She's in Colorado, right?"

"Yeah," Bellamy smiles, pleased that she knows. "She's good."

"Does she graduate this spring?"

"Nah, she dropped out after her freshman year. But she liked it out there so she got a job as a trail guide and I think she's happier than college ever would have made her, so. I came around eventually, even if I thought she should have finished school first."

"Hey, we're the ones with all the debt so it sounds like she's winning this one."

"Speak for yourself, Griffin." He smirks. "I had financial aid and scholarships to get me through."

"Good thing, because teachers don't get paid shit," she shoots back. He raises his coffee mug to her.

"Touche." He studies her for a moment, watching as she goes through the familiar motions of making a latte. "Tell me more about Eden 2.0."

Clarke hums, concentrating on her pour. "We close on the property next week, and then I'm overseeing the renovation and everything. It's smaller than this place, but it's downtown so I think we'll get more foot traffic and fewer people driving and setting up camp. At least, I hope so."

"Where downtown? I live over on Eighth."

"Really?" Her face lights up again. "The places we're looking at are pretty close to you. So basically I'm expecting you to come through all the time."

"But not to stick around," he teases. "In and out."

"I wouldn't mind if you stayed." Clarke shrugs, smiling at a customer as she slides them their drink. "You can be the exception."

"I'm flattered."

"As well you should be."

He hangs out until he absolutely has to go work on lesson plans, and when he makes his move to leave, Clarke refuses to let him go before he gives her his number.

"Just so if you don't come by the shop enough I can harass you until you do."

"I wouldn't have given it to you if I'd known I was subscribing to a harassment service," he lies. If Clarke Griffin wants his number, there's no world in which he's not giving it to her.

"That's why I only told you after." She smiles. "Really though, don't be a stranger."

"I just moved back here and don't have any friends in the area. You're probably going to get sick of having me hang around."

"One way to find out."

He has to smile at that. "Yeah, I guess we'll see."

* * *

**Unknown Number:** i'm disappointed you haven't come by the new place yet  
we had a deal bellamy  
you were going to be sad and lonely and i was going to be awesome and have coffee  
this is clarke btw

**Me:** Funnily enough, I figured that out  
I would have come by the new place if 1) it was open and 2) I knew where it was  
I thought you weren't even closing on it until next week?

**Clarke:** the paperwork got pushed through faster than we thought  
if i text you the address you wanna come by?

**Me:** To an empty building?   
Is there even anything there yet?  
Are you going to murder me?

**Clarke:** I'm here   
And ordering a pizza  
No murdering on my agenda tonight but I figured those two things would be enough  
Or are you not sad and friendless anymore

**Me:** Still friendless but I'm pretty ambivalent about it

**Clarke:** Knew I could count on you

**Me:**  See you in twenty

* * *

To his delight, Clarke texts him _constantly_. She texts him memes she thinks he'll like (and is usually right, still instinctively knowing his sense of humor despite all the years they lost touch), weird anecdotes, impassioned rants, and even checks up on him when it draws close to time for school to start and he feels like he's a perpetual six steps behind.

He'd like to say he's a lot more competent with his attraction this time around, but while there's definitely better flirting and less hostility in their interactions, he still hasn't quite managed asking her out.

And here he thought he'd gotten pretty decent with women in his adult life. Turns out he just didn't have to deal with an incapacitating crush.

But they are getting to be real friends, he thinks. They hang out all the time, text even more frequently, and she's basically his go-to person in the city for just about everything. So after his first week of school ends, when he badly needs several drinks and a year's worth of sleep, he doesn't feel weird at all about calling her.

Well, it is a little weird, given that they usually text. But Bellamy doesn't have the energy for that. He wants to move as little as humanly possible.

Of course, he should have considered how weird and possibly concerning it would be for Clarke, because she answers on the second ring with a worried, "Hey, is everything okay?"

"My brain is leaking out my ears and a medically-induced coma sounds almost restful enough right about now, but I'm otherwise fine," he grumbles. She huffs, half laughter and half relief.

"Sorry, I didn't go to med school, remember? If you're coming to me for the hookup you're barking up the wrong tree. All I have is a metric ton of coffee and six gallons of paint."

"Oh, that's right you're painting the place," he remembers, disappointed. "I was hoping you'd be up to do something tonight. I could use a drink or twelve."

She makes a sympathetic noise. "I'm exhausted from all this manual labor, but if you want to come here and hang out for like an hour while I finish up, we can go somewhere after. Preferably my place so I can change out of my painting clothes."

"A laid-back night on your couch sounds ideal, actually," he says, groaning as he picks himself up off the floor of his own apartment. "I'll be at the shop in ten."

"Text me if I don't hear you knock."

"Will do."

The walk to Clarke's shop (which she isn't calling Eden, but hasn't named yet) is pretty pleasant; it's starting to get cooler outside, particularly at this time of night when all the lighted signs are starting to turn on and the sky is a dim, dusky purple. It's late enough that he missed the crowds of people looking for dinner and early enough that no one is hitting bars yet, but there are still a good number of people out and about. It's cozy, he thinks. Sort of like home, if he can bring himself to think of Arkadia that way again.

She lets him in when he knocks, smiling despite the way her eyes are sweeping over him like she's checking for visible signs of distress. He smiles back at her, tired, and tries not to find the streaks of paint all across her arms (and even a smear on her temple) too endearing.

"Thanks for letting me come over," he sighs, hopping up onto the counter as Clarke goes back to the roller propped up against the wall. The lights cast a gold hue that warms the green walls and she's got music playing from her computer in one corner. _Cozy_ , he thinks again. Like home.

"Thanks for calling. It's just been me and the paint fumes all day, so I've been going a little crazy."

"Well, I'm not sure I'll be great company tonight. Unless you like listening to me complain about teenagers and school system bureaucracy."

"It's what I live for. Was the first week really so bad?"

"Nothing I didn't expect." He rubs his eyes. "A lot of pretending to know what I'm doing. I'm just more tired and overwhelmed than I thought I'd be. And teenagers are a lot more immature than I remember."

"Oh come on." She flashes him a grin. "You don't remember what you were like in high school? Messing with me just because you thought it was funny?"

"I would never."

She rolls her eyes. "Always picking fights to pass the time. Spending way too much time flirting when we had a line at the register. Calling me _Princess_ all the time."

Bellamy laughs. "I forgot about that one. I should start that up again."

Clarke glowers and points the roller at him menacingly. "Don't you even think about it, Blake."

"Oh, come on. I wouldn't have kept at it if you had reacted more _maturely_. I called you that because I knew I could get a rise out of you, and you were hot when you were pissed at me."

The words slip out before they even register with him, his mind too worn out to process things correctly. Clarke misses only a beat, stuttering with the roller before evening out the line.

"You thought I was hot?"

He pauses, but-- he's been looking for a segue into this topic. This is as good as he's going to get.

"You had to have known I had a massive crush on you in high school," he says lightly, hoping it's not obvious that his palms are suddenly sweating. "I mean, my flirting skills have definitely improved since then, but I thought the pigtail pulling was... pretty obvious."

"Not to me." She pauses. "You think you're better at flirting now than you were then?"

"Given you didn't even know that was flirting," he says with a wry smile. "I'm going to go with yes. But you tell me. Has it been working for you?"

She turns and evaluates him, her cheeks rosy. "You've been flirting with me now?"

"Shit, maybe I haven't gotten better at this after all."

She laughs. "Or maybe it's the other common denominator. I'm kind of notorious for not recognizing when someone is trying to hit on me." She sets the roller down, coming closer to where he's sitting. "Tell me more about this massive crush you used to have."

"You were pretty and way out of my league." He shrugs one shoulder. "What's there to tell?"

Clarke takes another step forward, putting her directly in front of him, almost between where his knees are dangling off the countertop.

"You never made a move," she says, biting her lip on a smile. It's all too easy for Bellamy to reach out and let his hands find the pockets of her overalls, to hook his fingers there by her hips and pull her a little closer.

"I'm making one now," he says, leaning in. "Unless I missed my shot."

Clarke's eyes dance with light for a moment before she tilts her face up, closing the gap between them. Her lips are soft and the kiss is too, until she flickers her tongue against the seam of his lips and he opens for her on a groan. His hands find their way to her hair as hers draw patterns on his knees, both of them getting swept away in it. By the time they draw apart, Clarke burying her grin in his shoulder, the sun has set and the world is dark and soft.

"Can you finish painting tomorrow?" He asks, nuzzling her hair.

"Probably. Why?"

"If I was looking forward to your couch before, I'm _really_ looking forward to it now."

Clarke laughs and pushes him away, letting him catch her for one more kiss before she disentangles herself. "It won't take that much longer, promise. I want it to dry overnight."

Bellamy groans and she pokes him in the side. "We've waited six years. What's another twenty minutes?"

"We?" He asks, beaming.

"Duh." She shakes her head. "I definitely had a thing for you too."

"If only we could have gotten our act together then."

"I don't know." She hums. "It might not have worked, going to different colleges and stuff, and then it would have been a hard no. It's the maybes that haunt you. Or-- it haunted me, at least."

Bellamy makes a noise of agreement. "I know the feeling."

"Yeah?" Clarke asks, uncertainty in her voice. Bellamy hops down and comes over to give her a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Definitely. Now give me a roller so we can get out of here faster. I think we've waited long enough."

Clarke laughs, nudging the tray of paint his way. "Couldn't agree more."


End file.
